


Clothes Make the Woman

by FlyingPigPoet



Series: Before the Girl Took Flight [2]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 23:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11046696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingPigPoet/pseuds/FlyingPigPoet
Summary: It's hard to hide your true self when the world needs more than latte. But when your family wants to protect you, you force yourself to hide. For now.





	1. This Style Thing Is Harder Than It Looks

It had taken Kara Danvers a long time in high school and college before she had figured out a style of clothing that made her feel like... herself. Well, not Kara Zor-El herself. And not Alex Danvers' sister herself. But that other herself--the one who didn't live on Krypton anymore and therefore had powers she needed constantly to control, to conceal, but whose older sister was no longer around to help her control and conceal them.

In college, when Kara had the chance to take electives in social science and the arts, she took Social Psychology and Designing Costumes for Theater. From these she learned how clothing could serve as social cues that would suggest a Gestalt, an unfinished picture, like half of Lincoln's face, that people's minds would complete unconsciously. If the costume did half the work, the actor could focus on dialogue and gestures to portray a particular character forcefully. Or, Kara supposed, a covert spy could focus on the mission without worrying about accidentally revealing her secret identity.

Kara's mission was to get an Earth education and then afterwards, get a job that might stretch her mind in a more real-world way while she tried to figure out what she wanted to do with her life.

Hence, little sleeveless dresses and flats, or skinny pants and loafers.

Hence, peter-pan collars, cardigans, and ponytails.

Hence, pastels, pastels, pastels.

And, hence, with a BA in Art History and a BS in Astronomy, Kara sent eighty-seven resumes out to places in National City (where Alex had moved after her stint in that lab in some desert) as varied as the National City University Observatory, the Museum of Art & Culture, Lord Technology, and CatCo Worldwide Media.

From most places, she got polite "no, thank-yous." From Lord Tech, she got "We offer you no hope of employment here" (which Kara thought sounded like it had been taken straight from Dante). From several places, she got first and a few second interviews. From CatCo, she got a job offer.


	2. Cautious Optimism #1

When Winslow Schott, Jr., IT guy at CatCo, heard that the search for Cat Grant's newest Personal Assistant had only taken two weeks, he made a note to come to work early the following week. That poor girl was going to need the Special Grant Orientation, and she sure as heck wasn't going to get it from HR.

He recognized her immediately from the way she so clearly did not fit in. Cat and the other female bigwigs at CatCo dressed stylishly and elegantly. The men went so far as to wear cufflinks, if you could believe it; Winn blamed Mad Men. The reporters and editors in the bullpen wore what he thought of as Workplace Slovenly: sleeves rolled up, ties loose, khakis wrinkled from sitting at their computers.

This girl? She dressed... Well, she sort of dressed like him.

So when she came in that first day with coffees for everybody "on deck," in front of Cat's office--including Winn, Jerry, Eve Tessmacher: all eight of them that Cat required to be within shouting distance--he was impressed. It was good coffee, too, from Noonan's.

When she settled at her desk, having finished making new friends, Winn went over to thank her.

:Oh, it's nothing!" she said, adjusting her glasses and grinning.

"No, it's sweet. And here. I have something for you."

"Soy latte?" she said. "Your coffee order? I, um, I'm not--"

"No! No, no, no. It's Ms. Grant's! She's very specific. And you'll want to microwave it when you get it back here, because the one-block walk from Noonan's cools it off too much, even in the summer. Also, she likes healthy lunches about 92% of the time, her sushi place is Oishi-Ya, and she likes to make visitors with appointments wait about five minutes, Maxwell Lord, fifteen. Only the mayor or above get in without appointments but I never figured out the rubric for that."

"Rubric?"

"Um, Cat-- er, Ms. Grant's assistants tend not to last more than a few months. I... I just try to help folks have a fighting chance.

She stared at him through the dark-rimmed glasses but her cool blue eyes looked like they could burn him. He wondered if that was what love felt like.

Finally, she said, "92%?"

"I could show you my spreadsheet."

"Yes. I'd like that." She looked at her watch. "I have just enough time to get her latte. Thanks!"

But she headed for Ms. Grant's personal elevator.

"Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no!"

And he redirected her, thinking, Oh, this one will never last. Of course not. No such luck.


	3. Cautious Optimism #2

When the newest assistant, Kiera-something, greeted her with an actually-hot-enough soy latte when she exited her elevator ten minutes early (and the elevator had not smelled of latte), Cat Grant thought to herself, Well, this Kyla-woman might just last the week. She suspected that Witt-with-the-cardigans was probably responsible for that. Whatever. Natural selection would have its way whether or not its subjects cooperated and evolved or competed and knocked each other out of the game. Cat was there to run an empire, not coddle people.

When Cat finished her latte and her morning calls, she went to shout the woman's name, but Karen was already entering with a tablet in one hand and two pink paper messages in the other.

"Ms. Grant? Sorry to disturb you, but Senator Warren called to cancel your lunch tomorrow and Maxwell Lord's lawyers are threatening a libel suit. Also, I have your agenda for the next few days, if you want to tell me the changes you want to make."

"Oh, well. Thank you, Kris."

"Kara."

"What?"

"My name, Ms. Grant. It's Kara."

"Very well, send the Lord problem down to Legal. Call the mayor and see if she's free for lunch tomorrow. They both like sushi, so we can keep the same reservation."

"You don't currently have one, Ms. Grant. So that will be Oishi-Ya at 12:30?"

"Yes, yes. Thank you, Karen."

"Kara."

"What?"

"My name, Ms. Grant. It's Kara."

"Very well. Also, I'll want lunch today at one." She waved her hand dismissively. "Something healthy."

The girl turned and left without asking anything more. Cat watched her go, thinking, A week, yes. Ten days, tops. Two weeks at the outside.


	4. Sidestepping Deception #1

When Alex didn't call her mother at eleven sharp on Sunday morning, Eliza called her at noon.

"Sorry, Mom," said Alex when she finally answered. "I'm still low-woman-on-the-totem-pole, so I only get access to the clean room at weird hours. It was either Sunday at nine a.m. or Tuesday at 3 a.m."

"Alex, darling, you sound out of breath."

"Oh, yeah. Because of running for my phone. I left it in my desk so it wouldn't ring and cause me to botch the experiment."

"Sweetie, if you're out of breath just running for the phone, you might need to get out of the lab more, get more exercise."

"Mom, I assure you, I'm getting enough exercise."

"Well, if you're sure... Kara started her new job this week. Have you seen her?"

"Of course, I've seen her, Mom. We live in the same city now. I took her out to celebrate Monday evening and we had a sister movie night on Friday. It sounds like she likes the job. Her boss is touchy and can't remember anybody's name, but Kara made a friend, an IT guy who gave her some tips for getting by at CatCo."

"And have you met him yet?"

"Mom!"

"Alexandra, I can hear you rolling your eyes."

"No, I haven't met him yet. I figured the end of this week would be plenty of time."

"And you're sure Kara's being... discrete?"

"Yes, she's being discrete."

"Oh, okay, then..."

"Oh, sh-shoot. I have to-- my experiment. Gotta run, Mom. I love you!"

Eliza sighed and hung up. She was glad Alex and Kara enjoyed their work, but sometimes she just missed her girls.


	5. The Better Part of Valor?

Kara delivered Ms. Grant's lunch to her on Tuesday, a Skinny Greek Salad (300 calories) and a strawberry milkshake (350 calories), and she had Winn add it to the spreadsheet they were building. Winn thought he could use Monte-Carlo processes to predict when Cat would want healthy and unhealthy food, and so far they were 5:2 ahead. He had heard Ms. Tessmacher ask Ms. Grant if she wanted to renew the job ad for the new personal assistant yet, and Ms. Grant had said, "Not today. We'll give it another week."

When Winn told Kara this, she said, "Well, I've got you to thank for it."

He had said, "Then I guess it's a Winn-win!"

She laughed and hit him on the shoulder and he flinched and she adjusted her glasses and apologized. 

Her phone dinged. It was a text from Alex.

LabRat: Mom says be discrete.

Kara snorted and texted back.

PotSticker: Discrete as a particle.

LabRat: Nerd.

PotSticker: Are we on for Game Night on Saturday? You're going to love Winn!

Before she could pick the proper emojis, Alex texted back.

LabRat: I already said yes.

PotSticker: Bring some of your friends from work.

The moving dots suggested that Alex was typing, but it took a long time considering the end result.

LabRat: We'll see. Gotta run.

And Kara could never understand why Alex wasn't as good as Kara was at making friends or finding boyfriends as Kara was. And Winn? Winn definitely fell into the friend category.

With her superhearing, Kara heard Ms. Grant take a big breath to shout and she was moving by the time the shout split the air.

"Cleo!"

"Um, was it me you wanted, Ms. Grant?"

"Of course it was. I called for you, didn't I?"

"No, ma'am. You called for a Cleo. My name is Kara."

"Very well. Get this down to the art department. Chop chop!"


	6. My Old Friend, Disappointment

Winn wasn't nervous about meeting Kara's big sister on Saturday evening. After all, he figured, Kara had said she would also be bringing at least one friend from work, so her scrutiny wouldn't be all on him, and anyway, how different from Kara Sunshine Danvers could this Alex Danvers actually be? And she worked in a lab. She was definitely going to turn out to be either a Geek or a Nerd, or better yet, both. His tribe.

In retrospect, there may have been some logical flaws in his reasoning.

First of all, she was drop-dead gorgeous, in a darker way than Kara, reminding him of a panther, lithe and wary.

Second, she didn't broing any friends with her, and sidestepped Kara's questions about why not.

Third, it turned out that her labwork for the FBI was confidential, so they couldn't really talk about science. And she said that the government computers "kinda sucked" but she couldn't tell whether the problem was on the hardware side or the software side, so he couldn't even recommend some fixes.

It was only when, in a last-ditch effort at making conversation, he asked, very tentatively, how she felt about Star Wars, that he got a sort of softening. 

"Well, I always wanted to be Princess Leia when I was little," she said quietly, glancing at Kara in the kitchen, heating up their pizza in the oven. "But in junior high and high school I went for Wonder Woman instead. Or maybe Black Widow."

And Winn was fluent in the women of both DC and Marvel, which had won him Alex's grudging respect. So when Kara invited Winn to pick either a game or a movie, he had suggested watching Agent Carter on Netflix.

He overheard Alex murmur to Kara, "Okay, he's good, but on probation. If he hurts you, I will break his--"

"Alex!" hissed Kara. "We're not dating. He's just a friend."

And Winn had sighed dejectedly. He knew that the root "win" or "wyn" in Anglo-Saxon meant "friend" and he wondered, not for the first time, if his name had cursed him to never find love.


	7. Sidestepping Deception #2

On Sunday morning, Alex woke up on the side of Kara's bed away from the window, while Kara, wearing her white yummy sushi pajamas, woke up basking in the sun shining through the window curtains.

Quietly, Alex rose to go make a pot of coffee and watch the TV news, turned down low. She wore the Stanford sweats she kept at Kara's for sister nights and stretched languidly until she saw the breaking story.

The TV showed a tall, bald man in an expensive suit standing on the roof of the Daily Planet, raving about the alien menace in general and one Kryptonian in particular: Superman.

Alex's phone rang and she barked, "Danvers! Yes, I'm seeing it. I agree. Yes, I'll make sure-- Gotta go!"

Kara sped into the room. "What's wrong? Your heartbeat just--"

Alex gestured to the television.

"Lex Luthor? What happened to him? He looks insane. Do you think Kal's in danger?"

"Don't know."

"Should I go?"

"No. I don't think so. But you're going to have to handle Eliza, maybe visit her in case... And tell her... anything really. She's going to guess that the FBI will be called in on this one. Thirty-seven bombs? Holy shit."

"And kryptonite..."

"I've been called in. She's going to freak out if she thinks I'm collecting sample of kryptonite, even in those new HazMat suits."

"Do you think--"

"Kara, I won't know anything until I get there. Go take care of Eliza, just in case. Tell me you got this, Kara."

And Kara's body language, normally so small and busy, suddenly became slow and assured, and her voice dropped an octave. She put her hands on her hips. "I've got this, Alex. I'll handle Eliza. You go handle Lex. And tell Kal--"

"He knows."

And although Alex didn't have time or headspace to consider the abrupt transformation she had just observed in her rush to get back to the National City DEO where she was temporarily assigned, she would realize later that all throughout that mission, flying to Metropolis, landing the Blackhawk on the roof of the Daily Planet, and collecting samples, she was processing it in the back of her mind, filed away (as Agent Vasquez might say) under: "Hm. That's interesting."


	8. A Call for Moderation

At the beginning of the chaos, Cat had tried to keep the Tribune's coverage as balanced as she could. She had always liked Lionel Luthor, had more or less respected Lillian, and had great hopes of their daughter, Lena. But Lex had been a wildcard in his youth: a temperamental genius with great creativity and little self-discipline. She had hoped his friendship with the mild-mannered Clark Kent might lend him some moderation.

Now his antipathy against aliens had become a mania, and his caution sounded dangerously like paranoid delusions. But just because the acting-CEO of LuthorCorp wince Lionel's recent death was apparently coming unhinged, Cat didn't want to paint the whole Luthor family or the innocent employees of its company with the same broad brush. So she urged her editors and reporters to practice the moderation that Lex had abandoned. As a child, Cat had tossed a white stone into Niagara Falls. This was much like that.

Cat stood in her office toying with the remote and watching the dozen news feeds from all over the United States: anti-alien rallies in Houston, anti-Luthor rallies in Metropolis, Star City and Chicago, appeals for peace from mayors and pastors. Even Senator Marsden from Massachusetts went on record to call out the pro-gun groups for trying to arm anti-alien groups by getting around the three-day waiting period. Cat flicked through the feeds, coming up with a plan.

"Karina!"

Her assistant showed up, saying, predictably. "My name is Kara, Ms. Grant."

"Yes, yes, of course. Get me the redhead from archival footage, and have Whittaker bring his camera and gear in here, and I'll also need Shauna from makeup. I have work to do."

The girl hurried off and Cat sat and jotted down a list on one piece of paper and a broad outline on another. When the six-foot-tall woman with a ginger Mohawk strode into her office, Cat said, "Get me these, feed them to my screens here as noted. You have ten minutes."

"It's going to take twenty."

"You have ten."

The woman sighed. "I am the best there is at this, Ms. Grant. It's going to take twenty. Take it or leave it."

"Fine." Her voice made it clear that it was not, in fact, fine.

Selena from makeup came in and touched her up, while Winn set up his camera and connected to the CatCo antenna to provide a live feed for their TV channel. Carrie came in to say that the archived footage was up and ready to go. Cat looked at her watch and smiled: 18 minutes 43 seconds. She should give that woman a raise. She jotted down a note.

Weaver stood at his camera. "Whenever you're ready, Ms. Grant."

"Whitney, I was born ready."

He muttered, "Of course you were."

She chose to ignore it, turned her chair toward the camera, calmly folded her hands on her desk, and waited for Will's cue. Three. Two.

"My fellow Americans. This is Cat Grant from CatCo Worldwide Media. These last two weeks since Lex Luthor allegedly set off twenty-seven bombs in Metropolis and nine in other cities, injuring over 450 people, killing more than 18 at last count, and lacing two-square miles of Metropolis with kryptonite, leading to the evacuation of the area, our discourse about domestic terrorism has undergone a dangerous shift."

She stood up and glanced up at the screen to the left of her desk, which showed a series of faces: the Unabomber, Timothy McVeigh and others, and then the iconic footage of the wide-bodied airplane flying through the World Trade Center tower.

"Whereas in the past three decades, whether the terrorists were white men worried about 'immigrants' or 'Muslim extremists' overtaking our 'way of life,' or were Muslim extremist males worried about Western capitalist encroaching their way of life, we have largely kept the blame for acts of violence intended to terrorize us firmly on those radicalized men. Not their families. Not their intended victims. Suddenly, this time, that has changed."

She turned and gestured with her gold Cross pen and the screens above her head.

"And yes, we've all seen the pictures of Alexander Luthor in his youth, back when he still had charm, hair, and a good mental bill of health. A handsome young man with his life ahead of him." 

The pictures included his MIT graduation and his Time Man of the Year cover.

"Yes, he was smart and handsome. But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't be putting the blame where it is allegedly due. But instead, many in mass media, social media and even politics" (she managed to sound surprised there) "have insisted on blaming his family" (a rare picture of Lionel and Lena smiling and Lillian looking neutral) "or even his friend, Superman, for Lex's sudden shift in stance on refugees from other planets and his intense terror of what such being seeking asylum on Earth might bring here."

And here, the stills she point to, surrounded by the calm pictures of his family, and of the Man of Steel looking heroic, were of Lex looking terrified, wrathful and completely unhinged.

"But we, in the twenty-first century, high-tech, democratic society of the United States, do not blame a family for the alleged crimes of their son or brother. Only barbaric societies of old did that. Only barbaric societies blame the intended victim of the crime. Such scape-goating did not help them then. It does not serve us now."

She put her hands on her hips (with Superman, arms crossed over his chest, cape billowing behind him, on the viewscreen over her shoulder).

"America, we are better than this. You are better than this. Whether Lex Luthor is found guilty or innocent of his alleged crimes in the next few months is immaterial today. For today we must remember that in this democratic United States of America, people who have not legally been accused of crimes are always innocent, and we must treat them as such. Because that is what we Americans, who love and are protected by our democratic system of justice, do. This is Cat Grant, of CatCo Media. Good night."

Winn turned off his camera, gave her the thumbs-up. Cat rubbed her eyes, suddenly exhausted.


	9. Midvale State of Mind

Kara often heard something right before her phone rang, so she frequently hit answer in the first half-second of the ring.

"Kara!" said Eliza. "Did you hear?"

"About Lex, yes. Alex has been called in to do HazMat duty at the crime scenes. She said not to worry. Those new suits Maxwell Lord has been working on with the FBI worked well in the material trials. But she said I should come up to Midvale, just in case..."

"No, honey, I... Actually, yes. If you don't, I'll just be worried about both of you."

"Likewise," said Kara.

"You know I can hear you rolling your eyes."

"And you know why I'm doing it."

"When can I expect you?"

"Ten minutes. I have to call in sick to work."

"You can't call in sick in your second week of work!"

"Third. Fine, I won't. I'll tell the truth. I have a relative who was in the blast zone in Metropolis. I have to find out if they're okay."

"Kara..."

"See you soon," Kara said firmly.

Eliza went out to the porch and paced until she saw, in the dimming light, the blur that landed on the grass outside the house. Kara was wearing bright pink pants and a pink polka dot shirt. She hugged Eliza and then rolled up her sleeves.

Eliza sighed. "I know it's an emergency, but tell me that you haven't been... doing that in National City."

"I haven't flown since Alex broke, I mean, since I broke Alex's arm seven years ago. It took me a few tries just to get off the ground. But if for some reason Lex remembers you--"

"He only visited us once, years ago."

"I know, but Alex says unhappy people like to spread their unhappiness around."

"I don't understand why National City FBI has to work a Metropolis crime scene."

Kara adjusted her glasses. "Channel Seven said that the Metropolis FBI headquarters was one of the explosion sites. Lex thought he was being proactive, I guess."

"She should be protecting you."

"Eliza, first, I don't need protection. And second, law enforcement needs to protect everybody, not just individuals."

"So tell me about your new job."

"It's great. I mean, demanding but interesting. Ms. Grant's so busy she can barely remember anybody's name, but she's brilliant and insightful and articulate. And all the people who work there are kind of terrified of her, but they're super loyal too."

"And this Winn?"

"Oh, he's great. Very helpful. He even managed to get along with Alex the other night."

They stood watching the sun sink over the water. Seagulls soared over the beach. Kara looked up longingly.

"Sweetie," said Eliza. "It isn't safe."

"I know."

Kara restlessly led the way inside the house and turned on Eliza's small TV. The news was all about the manhunt for Lex Luthor. There was also an interview with his mother, Lillian, outside the Metropolis Police precinct. She looked tall and cold, superciliously pointing out that not all extraterrestrials "claimed to be humanitarians" as Superman did; many were quite upfront about their "resentment against the human majority."

Lex's sister was unavailable for comment, and was rumored to be traveling abroad on LutherCorp business. Somehow the reporters managed to make those neutral statements sound suspect.

Kara turned off the TV. "I just wish there were something I could do," she complained.

"You are doing something, dear," said Eliza. "You're protecting me."


	10. They Also Serve Who Only Stand

By two in the morning, Alex's unit had bagged and tagged all the kryptonite-contaminated evidence from the Metropolis FBI headquarters, she had hit the decontamination showers, eaten--something--and fallen asleep. She woke up in the women's barracks at the DEO in National City, unable to recall when or how she had been transported between the two cities. Director Henshaw sent her home for a mandatory 48-hour rest after so much round-the-clock overtime, and she took a taxi home, too exhausted to drive safely. Her personal phone was full of texts from Kara (with emojis and text spellings) and from Eliza (without).

She texted both of them that yes, she okay; no, they hadn't yet captured Lex; and she was ordered to sleep before coming back to work. She would stay in touch.

Eliza seemed satisfied by this. Kara was not.

PotSticker: Any word from Kal?  
LabRat: Sorry, no.

PotSticker: I should go and

LabRat: And don't even think

PotSticker: see if I can help him.

LabRat: of going to Metropolis.

PotSticker: But I could do so much. I just want to help.

LabRat: People help in different ways. Look at how Winn helps Cat. Maybe that's what you're meant to do.

And the three dots on Alex's phone flickered. Alex imagined her alien little sister typing, erasing, typing again. Finally:

PotSticker: I always feel that there must be something bigger I am meant to do. With everything I have.

LabRat: I know, kiddo. When this is all over, let's sit down and talk about it. Okay?

Kara didn't reply, but there was nothing Alex could do to help her. At least not tonight.

 

FINIS


End file.
